Drag Always Makes A Good First Impression
by imthekeptainnow
Summary: This Christmas, Stiles will meet his long term boyfriend's family for the first time. He wanted everything to be perfect, and definitely didn't want to give them a reason to disapprove. Running late from work was hardly the first impression he wanted to give. But then again, neither was the skirt and corset. AU. No Hale Fire. No Werewolves. Stiles/Derek.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

_**Beta'd by WithinHerHeart :)**_

**Requested by Laura, hellonheelson on tumblr, for her friend, Hana, based off a picture she drew. **

**Merry Christmas :)**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Stiles was late.

Stupidly late.

Ridiculously late.

And it frustrated him more than it usually would because today, it was really kind of a big deal. At least in the terms of his and Derek's relationship. They'd been together for nearly two years now and, while Derek had spent copious amounts of time with Stiles' father, the Sheriff of Beacon Hills, Stiles had yet to meet any of his partner's family. The older man spoke about them a lot, in passing mostly if Stiles couldn't get him to sit down and actually admit something, so it was almost as if he knew them, as Derek argued, but nope, Stiles didn't stand for it.

So now, Christmas 2012, the Hale family would be coming down to their admittedly too large for them home to spend the holidays.

And Stiles was late. Hardly the first impression he wanted to give.

The flights for the family of six landed over two hours ago and there was no doubt that they were already at the house, probably forming the worst opinions of him possible. _Unreliable. Can't handle his commitments. Untrustworthy._ Stiles bit his bottom lip in an attempt to stop the words from spreading because, really, he was already nervous enough as it was. He didn't need his stupid overreacting imagination to make the situation worse.

Stiles worked a lot of jobs throughout the year, ones that helped him with his tuition money, that his father insisted he could pay completely and Stiles refused to let him (although, he did appreciate the help every now and then). Derek was constantly telling he didn't need to work as many jobs as he did - "I have a lot of money Stiles, and it doesn't do anything. I'm not going to refuse you food and a college education," he pressed, "Just use some of it."

But no, Stiles refused, and he knew how much that aggravated Derek was well as making him proud. Stiles wanted to make his own way, even if his way meant working four jobs between lessons and homework, and having to do double shifts at a moments notice.

That was why he was late.

One of his jobs, acting as a fortune telling gypsy woman at the Christmas fair, had asked for him to stay for another hour or so. The woman who was supposed to take his place at the end of the shift had called in to say that her lover was giving birth and she wouldn't be able to make it, leaving the station unmanned. Stiles was really there only option and while Stiles didn't really want to do it, his boss had offered to triple his usual pay for the hour out of desperation and, well, he couldn't say no to that kind of money.

It would keep him in curly fries for nearly three weeks.

He hadn't even had time to change when he'd rushed from the carnival, climbing into his jeep and shuttering off down the long roads. If he didn't love his home so much, he might actually have been annoyed that Derek had to choose a home on the other side of the city.

Even worse was the fact he had left during rush hour and the traffic had built up quickly around him. So fast that any chance of using one of the many shortcuts along the way were cut off. Just his luck, of course.

The car in front of him rolled forward slightly and Stiles soldiered on. When he hadn't moved more than a few inches, he sighed, admitted defeat and reached for his phone on the passengers' seat beside him.

He hoped Derek wouldn't be too pissed off with him.

'_Stuck in traffic. Be about 15 minutes. I'm so sorry x'_

Derek glanced away from the text and strained a smile towards his family on the opposite sofa. "It's Stiles. He says, ah, he's on his way."

His mother arched an eyebrow. "This young man definitely knows how to make a good impression," she mocked. His sister hissed out a low warning, his father sighed out her name and Derek's ears tinged pink.

God, this had to be one of the most awkward encounters he'd ever been unfortunate enough to experience. He wanted to be angry with Stiles, he did, and he had every right to be. This was a massive step for Derek. There was a reason it had taken him so long to make the introductions. The last - and first - relationship he had ever been in hadn't ended well, and he'd rushed into every milestone with the vigour of someone who thought they were always right, who thought they knew what they were doing. Of course, three months later, his relationship with Kate ended in a burst of flames that left him charred and scared, half the man he once was. His family, well, they had been there to help rebuild the pieces as best as they could, but Derek knew he never really started trusting again until Stiles.

Stiles, who managed to force his way through his shields with wide smiles and bad jokes and sugary treats because the man was seriously a wizard in the cooking department. Stiles, who cared so much about everything and believed so firmly that everyone deserves a second chance. It took a lot for someone to lose that respect from the man.

Derek wanted his parents to like Stiles, wanted them to love him as much as he did. He'd spoken about Stiles a lot when he visited, which wasn't as often as it really should have been, and that seemed to give him a general idea of how this meeting was going to go. His sister, Laura, had been ecstatic that he had found someone else - "it's about time, little brother," she had chortled, dragging him into an excited hug, and then proceeded to tease him mercilessly whenever the topic arose. His father, Winston, seemed just as pleased, although perhaps not as eager about it. He'd clapped him on his back and mutter something about moving on from a broken heart and finding true love - his dad had a habit of spurting those kinds of inspirational lines from time to time, whether he thought it would help and usually it wouldn't. His mother, Quinn, on the other hand, had been a different story altogether. She had merely pursed her lips and made a non-committed hum, before loudly asking whether anyone wanted tea.

And that was why he needed this first meeting to go brilliantly. His mother was a constant fixture in his life, through any and all hardships, and he didn't want to imagine what it would be like if he couldn't get her approval.

But he couldn't be angry. Maybe a little frustrated, yeah, but not angry. Derek knew how important it was for Stiles to pay his own way, and to be honest, it made him proud at how determined his partner was.

"Is lateness a habit of his?" Quinn questioned haughtily.

Derek frowned. "It's not his fault," he defended, "Stiles...he works a lot. He wants to pay his own way, without help from his dad or me, and that means he has like four part-time jobs to work during the week, and that's in between his university lectures and everything else that life entails."

"I'll take that as a yes then," his mother responded simply, and Derek scowled.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something in Stiles' defence when the front door swung open and the sound of running footsteps followed down the corridor. Relief surged within him and Derek turned around quickly to lay his eyes on the brunet.

In the doorway, Stiles stood as if he were frozen in place, and really, with that many eyes on him, it was to be expected. Clearly, he hadn't had time to change. A purple skirt, long with laced hems, hung in waves to just below his knees, meeting leather riding boots that stretched up his calf muscles. A white billowed top was tucked into the waistband and the ties around his neck hung loose. A waistcoat, brown leather to match his boots, was unbuttoned and open around the fake breasts that pushed through the top. Although his face was made up (his lips a delicious bitten red and his purple eye shadow making his eyes seem all the more vibrant) and the long feathered earring he loved curved around his jaw, the lack of wig, now held tightly in his left hand, only seemed to make the overall look a little ridiculous with his short hair.  
Derek spared a glance at his family. Shocked. Yeah, that was the expression he thought would be there.

Stiles' face flushed pink and his mouth opened in a frankly terrified expression. He stammered over words for a moment, before finally squeaking out a "hello" and disappearing down the hall, his footfalls being heard ascending the stairs.

Derek swallowed and glanced nervously back to his family. "So, yes, that was my Stiles..."

"What on earth was that boy doing in a skirt?" Winston demanded, looking more befuddled than anything.

"It's a work thing," Derek quickly explained. He stood up, brushing invisible lint from the crease of his jeans. "I'm just, uh, going to see how he's doing."

"Maybe he'll need some help out of that skirt," Laura teased her grin wide.

Derek went red and hurried up the stairs.

Trust his sister to fail to lift the tension.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:**** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

_**Beta'd by WithinHerHeart :)**_

* * *

**Chapter 2**

As soon as Derek opened the bedroom door, Stiles began to babble.

"God, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to be late and then I didn't have anything to change into in the car – god, what your family must think of me? This is so embarrassing," he groaned, self pitying, as he roughly tugged his clip-on earrings off and slammed them on top of the chest of draws.

Derek didn't say anything at first, just leant back against the closed door, hands behind him, and watched the panicked freak out that, to be honest, the younger man was liable to do on an occasion. He had learnt that the best thing to do was to just let Stiles talk from a while. Eventually, he would stop, tired or thirsty or just running out of words to say, and it was then that Derek would approach, draw him in and assure him as was his duty as his partner.

Stiles wiggled out of his skirt and yanked his billowing t-shirt over the top of his head, leaving him standing in his tight batman boxer briefs, a frustrated look on his face. Derek look a moment to appreciate the view, before he stepped closer, nuzzling his head against the side of Stiles' head. The younger man breathed out heavily and laxed into his hold.

"I completely screwed this up, didn't I?" Stiles whispered.

"Of course not," Derek reassured, dropping a light kiss on the freckle spotted shoulder, "It'll just be…an interesting story to laugh about later on."

"I'm sure your parents are laughing about it now," Stiles corrected.

"Actually, Laura might be," he stated thoughtfully, although it might have been a tad insensitive if Stiles' moan of embarrassment had anything to say about it. Derek sighed, "Look Stiles, my family are going to love you. I mean, how could they not?"

"As sweet as that is, but you weren't exactly my biggest fan when we first met," Stiles pointed out, "I do believe I recall you using the words 'infuriating'."

"You are infuriating," Derek agreed, "But that's what I love about you. And in my defence, I just wanted my coffee. You were the one that couldn't stop talking."

"I'm an acquired taste," the man sniffed with mock-indigence.

"You spilt tea all over me, stole my shirt and then used it as a poly to get me to your apartment," Derek reminded.

Stiles turned in his hold, arms rising and sliding across his partner's broad shoulders. He grinned, amused. "I didn't hear you objecting when you had me pinned to Scott's bed."

"To be honest, I had bigger things to be focusing on," the man's lip twitched into a smirk at the reminder. "And don't change the subject," he chided gently, "Okay, so maybe it's not the first impression that we wanted to give, but that doesn't mean everything 'completely and totally ruined'. Just relax, get dressed, we have dinner reservations to keep."

* * *

Stiles squirmed in his seat, hands twisting the napkin nervously. God, he'd never felt so awkward in his life. And he was the one who ran naked across the lacrosse field because Scott had dared him to in his senior year of High School in front of the entire student body. Those stares and giggles had followed him around from months afterwards, and hadn't really disappeared, not even all these years later.

When he'd come down the stairs, dressed in his best and most expensive jeans, a white button up and the red blazer that Derek had brought him for his birthday their first year together, he'd smiled slightly and tried to be diplomatic as he apologised for being late and being so inappropriately dressed.

"I'm working as a fortune teller in the fair over the holidays, and one of my colleagues was having a baby so I had to take her shift," he said in way of explanation.

"At least someone has a sense of responsibility," Derek's mother had commented, an unimpressed look on her face.

Stiles' smile faltered slightly at the unexpected comment, and Quinn merely arched an eyebrow, seeming to ignore the hisses of warning from the family around her.

So now they sat in the Thai Blue, the most profitable Oriental food establishment in the little town that had become their home. Derek tried desperately to keep conversation, one way or another. Winston seemed just as eager, answering any and all questions aimed in his direction and, when things fell silent for just a little too long, he would pipe in with a question for Stiles that he would answer honestly and happily. Laura wasn't as involved – but Derek had told him in a whisper, his voice filled with mirth, that Laura rarely spoke when there was food on the table – but she did make a crude or humorous joke every once and a while.

"Did Derek tell you about the Foundation Incident of '88?" she inquired with a smirk.

Stiles perked up interestedly, which only increased when Derek let out a pleading groan. "No, I can't say he has. Do tell."

"Well, Derek was four at the time, and he had this habit of getting into places he really shouldn't," Laura began, leaning across the table to reach him.

"God, Laura, do we really have to-"Derek started to object, but Laura dismissed him with a sharp hush.

"Mom had brought this new make-up, seriously expensive stuff and she'd warn Abigail and I not to touch it, but she didn't think to warn Derek. We'd left him alone for five minutes and Mom found him dancing around her bathroom, face smothered in the stuff – the rest of it had been mushed into the carpet – this purple eyeshadow that made him look like someone had punched him repeatedly well, everywhere, and the reddest of red lipsticks."

"I should never have invited you," Derek glared darkly.

Stiles cackled, and leant towards his boyfriend's side. He pinched his cheek and cooed, "Awh, don't be like that sourpuss," he teased, "I think you'd be adorable covered in your war paint."

"I thought mom was going to kill him," Laura continued with a laugh, "But then he turned to her with those big puppy dog eyes, all excited and happy, and told her that he'd made 'pwetty'. She folded like a blanket. Mom always had a weakness for her baby boy, isn't that right Mom?" she nudged her silent mother.

"Hmm," was all Quinn responded with, her smile barely there and her expression one of indifference, as one might have as they tried to appease a child. Laura's smile slowly dropped from her face and she settled carefully back in her chair, focusing on fiddling with the remaining scraps of food across her marginally empty plate. Stiles went silent and dropped his gaze to his lap, and Derek frowned deeply. He and his father shared a long across the table.

* * *

"Your mother hates me!" Stiles declared from where he was laying spread eagle across their double bed.

Derek, who had been brushing his teeth in the bathroom, looked through the mirror to see his partner. "Of course she doesn't," he objected, although it sounded weak even to his own ears. He didn't want to believe his mother _hated_ Stiles, not when she'd never hated anyone before, not when he loved the younger man so much, but what other choice was there? His mind struggled to find an answer to that question.

Stiles lifted his head up to give the man a ludicrous look. "Derek, the woman didn't speak the entire meal, and the only time she did was to make these little noises of hers – how does someone make such a simple hum sound that judgemental?"

Derek sighed heavily as he padded into the main room, climbing onto the end of the bed and shuffling on his knees into his side of the bed. Stiles' limbs curled inward to make space for him, and then rolled into his open hold, seeking comfort from the touch and nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck.

"Maybe she was just tired," Derek offered, "It's been a long day – the flight and then the dinner. It probably just made her crabby. It'll be better tomorrow, I'm sure."

Stiles wasn't as convinced, but he didn't say anything. He just breathed out heavily and leant into the touch even more, clinging to the wonderful smell of Derek's shower gel, and hoped, prayed, wished, that tomorrow would be better.


End file.
